Space Dementia
by Naaer- inactive
Summary: The north wind blows, and as a full pale moon shines through the clouds, a low howl answers... What if after the encounter with the Scottish werewolf, the Doctor had been on the receiving end of its attack instead of Queen Victoria?
1. Intro

_Space Dementia_

**Summary**: The north wind blows, and as a full pale moon shines through the clouds, a low howl answers... What if after the encounter with the Scottish werewolf, the Doctor had been the one on the receiving end of its bite instead of Queen Victoria? Will he ever find a cure, and how will Rose cope with his abnormal secrecy as he tries to protect their weakened relationship? After all, time waits for no man, not even the Doctor himself…

Follows up ¾ through _Tooth and Claw._ Wikiquote was handy here, 2006 was a long time ago… XD

Hope you enjoy, I haven't written an AU in a loooong time…

And yes, all chapter titles will be Muse songs- idk, the songs seem to fit the WhoVerse so well, it's kinda scary! ;D Or maybe that's just my weird mind at work again…

Chapter 1- Intermission

They were running, running like headless chickens in this godforsaken place, as the furry, snarling nightmare bounded after them. This was one of the few moments when the Doctor would actually concede his fear. His hearts beat a violent tattoo against his ribcage, whole body thundering with the brilliant rush of adrenaline.

And it was gaining on them, wickedly sharp claws gouging the wooden floors as its weight traversed the corridor in mere leaps –not even an effort for the creature despite its panting grunts, raised to fever pitch.

Well, they _were_ past the stairs now, at least. That only gave the beastie (the snarling, about to rip the-flesh-off-his-very-body beastie, not the equally terrified girl in front of him) the upper hand, sharp senses homing in on the three fleeing figures.

Specifically _his_ fleeing figure.

The Doctor, oh, he hadn't a clue. He could practically feel the beast's growling breaths on the back of his neck, and then, oh, it launched itself in a single spring towards the coop-

His nerves fired with pain, synapses sparking as the feeling congealed in his arm, spreading outwards in throbbing pulses. The terribly beautiful man-wolf had just claimed him as its next victim, cutting a bloody swath in his forearm. Its entire essence surrounded him as the thing struck him down, bowed over his body, huge in comparison, maw gaping and bent to his throat—

"No!"

A single gun-shot, and the beast was pulled off of him by some invisible force, clutching its side and careening backwards into the wall. The Doctor felt some iota of sympathy, hearing its pained grunts, but that was soon overtaken by the numb feeling in his upper wrist-

Wait a minute. His wrist? But the werewolf had injured his-

Oh.

This was good. Extremely very not good. His entire being shivered with the sense of something very wrong, something very alien having entered his system. Conforming it.

He stared dazedly at the whimpering mass of fur, horrible realization dawning. _If that thing bit him…_

"Ohmygod…Doctor, Doctor, are you alright? 'K, stupid question…God, please not this…" Rose's hand, damp with the sweat of pure fear, gripped him steadily.

_Had a Time Lord ever been infected with the strain of werewolf syndrome before?_

"Doctor…?"

_Oh…Rassilon. He really didn't know what to do this time._

Right. Back to reality. Rose, Queen Victoria, British monarchy in danger, snarling menace.

"Yeah –I'm fine, fine. Nothing the tissue rejuvenator can't fix…" Still the Doctor hissed, cradling his injured arm.

As he hurried forward into the immense library, screams and snarls and ripping flesh echoed behind him, the Wolf still not satiated.

He lied through his teeth, stating would-bes and possibilities, but inside he was quaking. Agony seared through his arm as he struggled turning the ancient telescope-light chamber wheel, all the while hissing that he was fine. Just as he always did.

"Doctor-"

"Just…keep…turning." He grunted each word out, muscles protesting at the work he demanded.

Fear powered their every motion now. He couldn't risk anyone else being lost to the same fate.

He squinted at the rising column of the chamber, willing it to focus. Just a little bit more…

Rose's scared eyes flicked to his as the death scream of Robert forced itself into the Observatory. He tried not to imagine them filled with an even greater fear as the werewolf towered over her, easily able to tear through skin and bone like a succulent Sunday roast—

_Not that, you idiot! Focus on the positive!_

Yes –of course. Don't die, that was his motto. Protect Rose, otherwise Jackie would flay him alive, wring his guts out before his eyes, then roast _them—_

"But what if this thing doesn't work?" Rose's voice was strained, coloured with desperation, eyes flicking back to the trembling monarch.

"It _doesn't_ work, it's not a telescope, it's a light chamber. It magnifies the light like a weapon- we've just gotta power it up."

"With what –there's no electricity!"

Humans, was all he could think about with that remark. After all, why were they straining and panting to _move_ this huge thing?

Then the penny dropped. She glanced at the first hazy rays of the lunar globe, and it clicked.

"Moonlight. It doesn't need moonlight, it's _made_ by moonlight."

Change of tactic. "You're 70% water, but you could still drown." Another tug. "Now come on!"

Light began to align with glass, starting the dusty beginnings of a beam. But his hope was quashed by the angry tumult the wolf unleashed on the door.

"Come on!" He urged, mostly to himself rather than to Rose.

And then: finally. He could breath, watching with some trepidation as the light chamber did its magic, a narrow pool of brilliant light on the floor.

Now they just needed the last part of the equation. But his senses tingled, his Time Lord-ness on red alert; the moon looked…warm and inviting. His skin tightened for a few brief moments, making him wince.

Then: cracking, splintering wood, as the beast made its entrance. It spotted its ultimate target- the one that would lead to the Empire of the Wolf- and growled in triumph.

The Doctor, meanwhile, sprang into action, launching himself forward onto the floor; landing on his bad arm and sending the precious diamond skidding very nearly off-course. But the room glowed bright as the trap was set- the wolf captured by the very stimulus that began it.

How ironic.

_Make it brighter. Let me go._

Gladly, but with a tinge of some odd remorse, he obliged, the wolf-man scattering into a blue haze of light-dust, naught but atoms in the air. The howl that reverberated about spoke volumes –its pain, its anger at being usurped. The resonance shook the Doctor to his core.

It was something he never forgot.

There was Victoria, fiddling confusedly with her wrist. He approached warily, recalling her fiery outburst last time he'd alarmed her and severed their fledgling trust.

"…Your Majesty?" A passing glance to Rose, to which she just returned a worried smile.

_She knows_.

"Did it bite you?"

Oh no. Please not this. After everything…after it…after _him_ and it…not her…

"No, it's…it's a cut, that's all." Her hesitation confirmed his theory.

Still, he prodded.

"If that thing bit you…" _If that thing had bit him…_

"It was a splinter of wood when the door came apart, it's nothing." Okay, now he didn't like her dismissive tone. Monarchs weren't exactly known for disclosing personal information…except maybe the Emperor of Minus 13, now _there_ was a nice bloke…

His curiosity urged forward. Interesting how he received his blow on the wrist, and she may have too…

"Let me see..?"

An insulting slap brushed the proffered hand away, which he withdrew guiltily.

"It is nothing."

Later, after knighting and banishment –the latter he certainly did not see coming, and wondered what repercussions it would have on his future timeline- the Doctor began to feel ill. He didn't speak a great deal on the hay-strewn wagon back to the TARDIS, mulling over the day's events, his thoughts chasing their ragged tails.

Okay, so the passing of the wolf line happened, but, like with the haemophilia, maybe it was meant to be? Even an event in flux…he and Rose deduced it certainly explained _some_ things about the Royal Family…

"Oh my god: they're werewolves!"

He managed a faux-howl before breaking into a series of coughs, bracing himself on the console and almost forgetting his injured arm.

"Your –Doctor!" She reached out to steady him, wincing at the dried and congealed ichor encrusting his suit arm. He looked at it and blanched himself.

"Well…you know what they say, it's worse than it looks-" He broke off at another gut movement, stomach roiling.

She didn't respond.

"Oh…right. I'll just go and…" He could feel his gorge rising, skin heating as a tremulous current began to rage underneath, "just –go and- medical bay…" He paled, suddenly dashing out of the room, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to reach the nearest receptacle.

Rose just watched on in bewilderment. Something wasn't right, not at all.

And she was convinced it had something to do with the werewolf…what else?


	2. New Born

Yes. I have returned. :D

I'm not sure for _how_ long exactly...this part of my life had to kind of take a very distanced back-seat as I had to sort out my life (in a good way)...

And so I haven't written since...November. Not creative writing anyhow, unless you call scientific essays and lab reports 'creative', ha..

So excuse if this is horrible and very rigid.

* * *

><p><em>New Born<em>

Sleeping was fruitless, he knew. Time Lords didn't even sleep anyway. But this...thing, this bitterness residing in him -he had to drown it out somehow. Convince himself infalliable to the dull, throbbing pain in his arm and the steady drip, drip of panic.

And it was...nice, to say in the least. Far better than practically vomiting his gut lining out, anyway. And the thin sheen of pespiration that covered his superior skin, so alien he could feel it penetrating deep in his dermis. Everywhere. Encircling, suffocating, the wicked, yellowed gleam of eyes-

The inhalation was torn from him, like an infant taking its first gulp of air. He was tangled, almost straight-jacketed in the thin sheets.

Too hot. Too cold. His senses were on fire, and there was a faint tang of copper in his mouth.

Sweat dribbled from his brow into his eyes. The fluid and the mere _fact_ that he was, ugh, sweating -of all the human things- should have disgusted him.

But it didn't. The tang of salt, the strong overlay of minerals and lactate. And of course the fact that one particular type of cresol would perform as a pheromone and -

What was up with him? Him, the Doctor, a Time Lord, suddenly slave to all these primitive ways.

This wasn't...appropriate. Sudeen thoughts bombarding him, inclinations he'd never -okay, maybe may have had once or twice- and all thrust upon his person like some-

Itchy. So very itchy. His skin and the slight facial hair he had tingled -actually _tingled_- and felt like it was moving. The sensation irritated him far more than normal and caused him to scratch at a spot just above a patch of stubbled chin.

Ouch. Didn't he trim his nails yesterday, before he and Rose were due to attend a meeting on Rolexuf?

The white shirt that he'd failed to remove before collapsing into bed clung horribly to the Doctor's skin in damp patches, particularly all the way down his spine. With a grimace, said shirt was discarded. Along with his Time Lordy-ness. And propriety.

A strange yet extraordinary sensation, or a feeling, or something, tripping through a deep-seated part of him. That side of his brain he barely thought about, let alone exercised.

The next thing he was on all fours, pained breaths puffing through his nose as a terrible _thing_ gripped him in wicked claws. He was in agony- pain slicing across his chest, crushing his ribcage. His head felt close to bursting, he couldn't think-

Hands clawed into the sheets, back bowed, a scream flowing forth like a tidal wave, features stretched in a grimace.

It felt like it would never end. This feeling like his very hair follicles were trying to rip themselves from his skin, his organs tight and in turmoil, stomach roiling.

The TARDIS rumbled sympathetic alarm as he lurched over to the right side of the rumpled bed and retched violently, but bringing up nothing but a few drops.

Drops that fell like scarlet rain in the bucket the TARDIS provided, hitting the base with a wet, empty_ plat_, blooming inky red flowers across the plastic.

Face down and shuddering as the pain slowly ebbed away but left him empty and weak, he eventually fell into deep sleep.

In the recessses of his tattered mind, yellow eyes glow,wicked teeth gleamed and a misty howl followed, slowly, slowly fading into nothing.


	3. Screenager

Next one. The Doctor experiences the surreal and scary, and Rose is befuddled by the behaviour of his time-ship.

* * *

><p><em>Screenager<em>

The lights steadily dimmed in the library, signaling that it was the end of another day. Time was hard to keep track of in a timeless home, so Rose was glad for these little things. She still kept a calendar too, even if it caused the Doctor to roll his eyes and mutter somewhat derisively.

As the pages of her book gleamed a soft, warm yellow in the half-light, she briefly wondered where her Time Lord was. This usually happened, so it wasn't of any cause for concern.

_Unless he's in the Lab again, _she thought with an eye roll to herself and a wistful smile.

And so, she immersed herself once more in the novel, whisked away to lands and creatures, chilling scenes_, _typical protagonists and cruel-faced, pale villains.

She smirked at the typical hero stereotype. Not like the Doctor at all. Supposing she hadn't had known him, she would've scoffed too. Back then.

A shake of the head to herself shook away those memories. What was her past, dim and smothered with social labels - that didn't exist anymore.

She had _now_.

She had the Doctor.

"Wha-"

The room and herself suddenly bumped and slid, sending her chair careening over and nearly crushing her as its path continued to the roundelled wall, gaining, gaining, even more speed-

_Then._

Rose gripped the nearest wall, knees bowed as she fought for balance. She felt the TARDIS shift in the Vortex, her ancient heart groaning.

Wait. Were they in the Time Vortex..?

The tumult ceased, leaving her a bit dishevelled, but more confused than anything. With equals parts alarmed and titillated, she ran (yes, actually sprinted, full-speed) to the Console Room, only-

"Empty," she breathed, taking in the darkened circumference of the console, eyes flicking instinctively to the inky blackness that pooled in the furthest corners.

A quick flip of the screen told her they were parked on an empty planet. An endless field of blue filled the screen. Rose frowned.

Then, what had been moving, exactly?

Right. This wasn't anything major. She was probably just over-reacting. Her Time Lord had most likely slunk of to do whatever he did during the nights -as he apparently didn't sleep- and could be anywhere.

Like, maybe the Galley, or the Butterfly Room. Or the Arboretum.

A tightening in her stomach told her she should really be worried if he wasn't in those places, because the TARDIS was huge- even endless. She remembered even the Doctor saying that he didn't know what all of Her rooms were, or where, for that matter.

Being a Tyler, she, of course, stubbornly ignored the pangs, and ventured out of the now rather untidy Library.

* * *

><p><em>...Time...Lord<em>_.._

Fear. That's all he felt. Irrational, terrible, wonderful _fear_, as the inky voices whispered to him. Face down in the covers, he shifted but by a few millimetres, one eye snapping open.

If there had been a mirror opposite his bed, he would have noticed the unnatural dilation of his pupil.

He gripped the covers in clawed hands as though it was his very life-line. The voice whispered again, clearer.

_The Wolf knows you Time Lord. Soon to become you, Time Lord_.

His title, being bandied around like some part of a chilling, sordid riddle or rhyme. Ice-cold trepidation poured through him.

"W-what do you want?" He didn't sound brave, nor confident. Speaking to thin air. The TARDIS grumbled indignantly at the intrusion in his head, but he was so far lost he didn't even hear her. Reality melted away. He was floating.

The voiced said nothing.

"Answer me!" The Doctor croaked, prone like a wounded animal. He had no strength whatsoever - like it had been sapped from him in an instant.

"I said to identify yourself!" A little bolder, this time. "By the order of the Shadow Procla-"

_Proclamations mean nothing_.

The force of the words, so loud they hurt, drew the Doctor back down to quivering, seeing nothing.

_Proclamations come and go. Just titles. Titles like yours._ The words were hissed and gravelly, the person -thing- behind them sounding haughty and puffed up with pride.

He shuddered, nausea beginning to roil in his belly.

_A dynasty, born so early, never set to fall. Oh? Now only one remains._

"Stop it." He barely grated that out, the mocking voice insulting his heritage more than he could bear.

_Just one. And yet, the pink and golden one...she sees. She bears your very soul before you._

He frowned? Weird and eerie voices being all poetic and cryptic as well as menacing? This had to be a bad day.

"I don't-"

_A Wolf like you._

The Doctor lay prone still, brows drawing together at this.

_Wolf long ago. Wolf here, Wolf there._

"But-"

_Time trickles by, oh Lord of Time. Seventy lunar hours. The Wolf does not wait._

And then...it was gone. Reality pooled back around him from the nothingness. His bed, his room, the TARDIS. Oh, and Rose, wherever she was.

He hefted himself up to the edge, and perched, head braced upon clasped hands.

He needed to sort this out for himself. Rose was in danger, and-

A swell of emotion took him suddenly. Things he had no real business feeling at this moment in time, thank you very much. He was in turmoil as it was. Eyes scrunched shut, he struggled to keep the lump in his throat at bay, rocking slightly.

The TARDIS watched on in silent despair for her lonely one.

If the Doctor was planning, then so would She. And she planned to win.


	4. Dark Shines

I was surprised to see how many are following this o-o

Well, have a chapter that I didn't expect to be as long. Rating is going up because of the dark imagery and bad language.

Remember, reviews are love :D

* * *

><p>Fingers of cloud -or possibly pollution- stretched to caress the hazy full moon. The steady throb of music echoed throughout the street, the ebb and flow of spritely, inebriated character adding to the excitement. The normal excitement and agitation of a eastern-London nightclub, where the weary souls of the day crawled and refreshed themselves with drink, drink and dancing.<p>

Well, Rose thought as she observed a clearly drunk couple practically grinding on the dancefloor, maybe not that kind of _dancing._ Funny how that seemed distasteful to her now, when couple years ago this would've been, well, commonplace.

And then she met this wonderful, wonderful man.

She smiled to herself, lost in the crowd, and her memories. Scary how her life had changed so much. And yet not at all, scarily. Was still waiting for her back home.

Mum. Mickie. Shareen.

Well, this was why she didn't like to think over the darker side of being with said man (with _great_ hair) because, well-

"Oi! Watch it!"

Rose's accent flared fully as the intoxicated couple slammed into her right side in their attempt to do some sort of half-crazed limbo. On each other. Her drink slopped down her arm, making her skin now feel as tacky as the sticky, drink-stained floor.

"Oh, for the love of-" She rolled her eyes, flicking the clinging drops off her fingers and bracelet. She was gonna _reek_ now...

"Oi, Rose!"

Among the thronged crowd two bodies emerged, clinging to each other to stay put, glasses clutched in hand. It looked like the birth of some horrific monster.

"Heey, you alrigh'?" Shareen burst forth, clad in her usual attire.

A decidely gaudy, sparkly monster.

Milling to the edge of the crowd, and suddenly in a limbo, now snapped out of her _deep_ thoughts, boy, did she feel...Awkward.

Oh. God. The Doctor's anti-domesticity was catching.

Rose smiled weakly and took a sip of her drink. Well. What was left of it.

"Oh my days- what are you drinkin'?"

For some reason she didn't launch right into the alcohol now, would instead buy a soft drink, get conversation before she got pissed and ended up saying _stupid_ things.

The dark-skinned man leaning into Shareen rolled his eyes, and turned to her.

"Oh yeah, I forgot Rose don't "drink" anymore. Not since 'e came, anyways.." Mickey took a long swig of his beer and swayed a little.

Rose rolled her eyes (again) "Micks, you know it's not that, I just-"

"Gods, don't tell me this guy is..." She leaned forward, whispering the next word as though it were taboo, "teetotal?"

"Oh for the love of...No, the Doctor does actually like a drink everynow and then. And, " she pointed at Shareen's glass, "it's not some cheap crap either."

Well, that first bit went over her head.

"A Doctor? You mean one of them PC Doctors?"

Rose stifled a snort behind her glass, but went along with it anyway.

"Er, yeah. Met 'im when Mickey's need fixing. Isn't that right, Micks?" She gave him a pointed look.

Mickey returned the look for a split second. "Oh, yeah, he's brilliant. Laptops, Macs, Droids, you name it. And he travels round to servicing calls in this...blue...hut thing". Mickey went to approximate the shape of the Doctor's magnificent ship (although he didn't think so) with his hands, then thought better.

"Wha'? Hut? 'E's not one of them bloody refugees, is he?" Shareen curled her lip in rather amusing (in Rose's opinion) confusion and looked to the man beside her for clarification.

Right...

"Look- I'm just gonna- go outside for a bit, yeah?" Rose gestured to nowhere in particular, but hoped it was in the direction of the door, somehow.

"Yeah. Sure." Shareen's interest was already caught by the hustle and bustle by the bar. Mickey turned to follow, took another swig, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

Another eyeroll, and she was outside in the cool, twilight air. The bitter-sweet tang of cigarette smoke wafted nearby, followed by the acrid stench of human sweat and alcohol. Rose grimaced and walked to the corner, away from the pounding of music.

Breath out, breath in. Her exhalations clouded the night air in clouds. A chill wrapped round her body.

Somewhere nearby, she could hear someone retching.

Another grimace and she huddled into the nearest sheltered alley, away from the now persistent wind but not too close to the rotting bin-bags that spilled their contents out onto the concrete like entrails.

Okay. slightly gory thoughts. Maybe that came with being with the Doctor as well. As did the nightmares.

They did stop, after a while. She began to reason that _they were worth it._

Minutes crawled by. Rose leant back against the wall and closed her eyes. Just...thinking.

That is, until the growl caused them to snap open.

She straightened up, stiffening, and squinting into the darkened alley.

She was tired. Not drunk. Was probably a dog.

Or her very vivid imagination.

But when Rose put not even one foot forward to pivot away, the growl resounded again. Her heart skipped and faltered a little.

Right. Time to stop being silly.

A deep breath and she strode...into the alley.

After all, wouldn't _he_ do the same?

More squinting. This area was badly lit. Inky shadows pooled in among the rubbish and huge, wheeled bins.

But there was no way _anyone_ could miss those eyes.

Rose stiffened again. as if rooted to the spot. It was like a cat in the dark, with those sinister, glowing eyes. But she could tell this -whatever- was far bigger- the eyes alone huge and glinting.

Looking at her.

She swallowed, desperately tried to tug away her feet seemingly nailed to the ground.

Whatever the thing was stepped forward.

Wickedly sharp canines glinted, moonlight catching the salivia hanging in threads between them. The best opened its maw in a silent hiss. Its muzzle was bloodied, its eyes savage.

And as it neared the light, well...it was some kind of wolf. But far bigger. Not to mention, terribly, wonderfuly _alien_.

A breath escaped her in a fear-ridden squeak. Rose tried to swallow it down, but cold fear was pouring through her nerves, congealing in her blood...

The wolf-creature hissed again, showing its impressive set of jagged teeth. The black coat it sported made it seem like some kind of spectre.

And yet...she knew it.

Gold flowed in its mind into hers.

She gasped.

No...but...

"Do-"

The wolf snarled, its hackles raising, coat bristling.

_Don't call me that._

"But, I-"

_Time to stop talking. Wolf._

The last word was spat, in her mind, like it was disgusting.

Then he pounced, and she screamed.

Heavy paws and a heavy body held her down. A wet muzzle brushed her neck, right by her jugular. Rose's breath came in panicked huffs.

_You. Are. Mine._

And then was blood. No one even wondered about the screams that pierced the night sky, the gurgles that racked them. Nor the ripping of flesh and the grunts and moans as the beast satitated his desire for his Wolf's flesh-

"No!"

_Thunk!_

The actual Doctor tumbled into the floor from his bed, tangled in the sheets and writhing as he sought to stop his wolf-self from mauling his Rose-

Chest heaving and glistening with fear-tinged sweat the Doctor slumped against the side of his bed, fighting the aftermath.

"It's just a dream...justadream...Rassilon." He curled on his side, face in the plush carpet, eyes scrunched shut as he repeated this inner mantra.

He stayed like that for some time, wondering how the hell he would get them out of this mess, until he slipped, once again, into empty sleep.


	5. Butterflies and Hurricanes

All I can say about this chapter...is that the bunnies were nibbling. A lot. o-o

* * *

><p>It wasn't really that much of a shock for her, waking from the screaming blackness of her nightmare.<p>

Even if it did seem to reflect on their most recent encounter.

And also had the Doctor posing as the 'wolf'.

Buut, coincidence was, too, almost part of Rose's life. So, as she crawled out from the snug cocoon of her bed to the Galley, she reasoned it was just so. Coincidence. Something the Doctor would n't have scoffed at. Would have left it alone to rest in the back of her mind...perhaps to file away and think about later.

Well. Maybe she _might_ just bring it up with said Time Lord...

Rose glanced up to the clock groggily. (something else the Doctor had scoffed at. _I'm a Time Lord, Rose. What would a _time-_traveller need with a _clock?) She frowned. Usually the Doctor was up by now, hurtling into the room like the non-stop whirlwind of energy he was...bouncing on her bed like a kid at Christmas...

Except he wasn't. And that alone was enough to worry her.

* * *

><p>Something about the Doctor's room struck Rose. Whatever <em>it <em>was, it overcame the slight tingle of potential excitement everytime she went in this place. It was the Doctor's room, after all_. _For someone so...enigmatic and, well, alien, it was like some kind of treasure trove.

Well. Not with the bed being stripped of its cover, the air spiked with lingering fear and panic.

Rose crept gingerly to peer over the bedside, thanking the sentient ship as she rose the lights a little, better for her to make out the curled figure on the floor.

The Doctor was pulled up small, into what could be labelled as none other than a fetal position. Such a repose for him certainly had a mixed effect on Rose. The combination of that and the sheets wrapped hither and thither like some snake sparked a moment's laughter in her. But this was quickly dampened when the Time Lord's brow creased in his sleep and he curled up smaller, if it was possibly.

Concern radiated in her gut, and Rose gently put the breakfast tray on the floor, loaded with his usual favourites -tea with more sugar than was probably healthy and toast with Frovian marmalade and then knelt next to him.

She put a hand upon his shoulder, but then withdrew it as if burned his skin was coated with a thin sheen of sweat. As was the rest of his chest. His very _bare_ chest.

The sleeping figure drew in a quick breath, and turned heavy-lidded brown eyes to her.

"...Rose?" There was some semblance of a smile on his rather pallid face.

"'M here, Doctor." She touched him again, feeling the muscles under the skin shift as he turned the better to see her face.

"What in the name of Rassilon am I doing down here?"

* * *

><p>Rose explained her dream, thinking that the Doctor would shrug it off, dismiss it as musings of her mind following their recent encounter. What she got instead, however, was something akin to confusion.<p>

The Doctor never looked confused. Maybe apprehensive if he didn't yet have a plan, maybe titillated if she ran off. But never, ever _confused._

_"_Huh." He clicked his tongue against his teeth, eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." And then the Doctor proceeded to grin about the room as if an audience were there.

Okay, now she was worried.

"Doctor, it's just...your-" Rose placed her hand in the middle of his chest and spread her palm. Sparse hairs tickled her and she blushed at the brashness of her action.

With a downward glance, the Doctor then studied her under his lashes. His eyes seemed to have a smoky quality to them today. And was it just her, or were his pupils a bit dilated-

Before she even complete that thought, Rose felt herself pulled into a rather tight hug. Or maybe not so much a hug as a cuddle. Because it was looser. Not like the bone-crushing 'we-almost-died' hugs they shared.

But really, what was the difference?

Well, for starters, she was very, _very_ aware of where their skin touch. And the fact that he was half-naked _(naked!)_ did not help matters anyhow. She squirmed at that a little.

And then stilled as his hands slipped to her lower back and his chin slipped from where it was resting on her shoulder to her clavicle.

He inhaled. Deeply.

Rose squeaked as he felt what she presumed to be his tongue flit out and lick under her collarbone. Licked. He just _licked_ her.

"Doctor, what the-"

And then he slipped further, which was a given seeing how awkwardly they were sitting. The Doctor's back almost bowed as his fluffy head stopped lower, somewhere that _definitely_ wasn't her clavicle.

Okay. This was...not normal.

Rose promptly told the left side of her brain that was telling her to enjoy the feel of the Doctor's chin practically (_so very nearly)_ nestled near her breasts to bugger off.

And then he inhaled again, shifting closer.

Rose whimpered.

"Mmmmm...Rose..."

Oh dear lord...those eyes were obviously bedroom eyes. He was practically _inviting_ her to do the thing they would both ultimately regret...

His next grin reached his ears and could've split his face. It also had a dreamy touch that worried her more than it flattered.

"You smell like strawberries."

_Oookay._

And then he was gone again.

"Speaking of, why don't we go to sunny France? They have some gorgeous hybrid strawberry fields there. Although technically strawberries are hybrids anyway! Oh, and it's the planet, not the country. " The Doctor punctuated his sentence with a rather out-of-character wink.

Rose mustered up a cheery smile and bubbling enthusiasm despite the ache of worry creating a veritable hole in her.

"Sure. That sounds great."

"Brilliant, molto bene. Fantastic even." Another wink, and she had to glance away to collect herself.

Change subject.

"Well, looks like someone needs to get dressed first." With a raised eyebrow and a point as his semi-clad self, the Time Lord emitted an, "Oh, oh yes of course," followed by a "See you in the console room in five" (which prompted a eye-roll from Rose; he spent longer on his hair than she did) and him tripped over the hem of his pajama bottoms in his haste to get up. And in doing so giving her a bit of an eyeful of his sacral dimples.

She couldn't help but stifle a laugh as he practically ran out of the room then, his ears turning pink from what she could see.

This was going to be an interesting day...


	6. Falling Away With You

Sorry that this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the others...I'll make it up to you all later :p

Ooh, more foreboding...angst to come...

* * *

><p>The Doctor bit out a yelp as he stepped into the fine spray of the large shower, turning the temperature ever cooler, steadily, as the moments went by.<p>

As he dipped his head into the downpour, enjoying the cool pound of the water on his scalp -despite the gooseflesh that rose everywhere else- he cursed himself for being so impulsive earlier.

_What was wrong with him?_

It normally wasn't an issue to hold his emotions in check when around Rose. Well, not much. Okay, maybe a bit more since this new body. (Or, really, since 'Run'...)

He had come to the stage of admitting to himself that his feelings were beyong the simple platonic with this particular human. Simply from the fact that the room seemed to brighten when she was in it, and his hearts tripped stupidly with concern when she wasn't -even if she had just gone to the Galley to make them tea.

Ever since the Sycorax ship and the snow-that-wasn't-snow, he knew. Something was...different.

He seemed to _need_ her like everybody else needed oxygen.

And lately, whatever had got into his system was steadily, drip-by-drip, turning that need into _want_.

Something, too, that he's admitted.

Okay. Well. Not really. Not without even saying _that_ word, even to himself...

Holding that thought, the Doctor frowned, leaning against the tiled wall and into the spray, which warmed a little. He huddled into it, thanking the TARDIS and then remembering how he had, likewise, huddled into said companion.

Red bloomed across his cheeks. What had he been _thinking?_.

...Well, apparently thought hadn't been involved at all. He just..._did_.

And how very human was that...

Human.

Hmm.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton-wool, all his other senses dulled as he was filled with the touch and smell as he treated his companion like a recently favourited teddy-bear.

But he hadn't been exaggerated the bit about her smelling like strawberries. He inhaled, the scent still fresh, as if she were in here with him, and-

Something savage, _primal_ ripped through the Doctor, sending his body (and his hormones) into panic and his head spinning. The _thing_ that was akin to lust, desire tripped over his nerves and he shuddered.

_Lust. Desire._

The Doctor turned the words over in his head, thinking about that. Wasn't something he felt at all, although...He'd felt something similar the other night, before pain took his body and made him bleed.

He brushed an open palm over his chest and mused at erect hairs met skin. Come to think of it, all his hair follicles were on edge, primed, sensing something.

Or, it dawned on him- _ready_ for something.

Too, somewhere about his hipbones tingled and felt heavy with anticipation.

It wasn't- but he couldn't be-

Right. He had to sort this out, _now._

With gritted teeth as he tried to ignore his body's demands, the Doctor, white-knuckled, turned off the spray and stormed out the bathroom. _Almost_ forgetting his towel.

* * *

><p>There was tension in every line of the Doctor's body as he stood at the console. His jaw was set at something and he wasn't meeting her gaze.<p>

"So..." Rose offered dimly, treading on eggshells. "France?"

"Hm?" The Doctor's somewhat icy demanour all but vanished for a split second. He looked content, relaxed in all his layers, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"You said we were goin' to France...the planet, not the country." Rose echoed his earlier words as well as the smile that had come with it. But both paled against his instantaneous barriers.

"Right. Fantastic. Molte bene."

Rose winced at the clearly unenthusiastic tone colouring his voice. He noticed that, however, and his countenance darkened.

"What?" For a moment he looked dangerous. The hint of a mad spark danced at the corner of his eyes -but Rose wasn't sure if it just the reflection catching off of his glass lens.

"Nothin.'" The TARDIS powered down, her ancient heart groaning, and she silently thanked the Old Girl, making a clean exit through the doors.

The Doctor's gaze followed her, his eyes slits and something troubled in his hearts.

* * *

><p>The Time Lord perched himself on a yellowing brick wall in an alcove, away from the happy battering and trills of the street vendors. Folding his glasses into his breast pocket he took a moment, pushing a deep, chest-filling sigh out.<p>

His expert eye was also trained onto the whereabouts of his jeapordly-friendly companion, as she graced stall after all, entrancing all of the vendors as they sought her with a greedy eye and pockets with blood-stained gold.

Ah. There it was, _again. _That grip of jealousy, that best set deep in his chest clawing to get out and maul those who approached her. Silently voicing, _She is Mine_.

He wasn't going to deny that it wasn't bothering him. His frankly appalling behavioural issues and sudden inability to control himself was just...not tolerable. If Rose was bothered by it she hadn't voiced it, or even shown it in her body language.

Although...maybe earlier today...

He knew he was infected, but was strangely loath to cart himself off to the Infirmary to test so. It was like he didn't want to _do_ anything about it.

His brow creased, and then rose in realization, his eyebrows two perfect triangles of consternation.

In any case, it was going to affect Rose...in whichever way he decided to go about it.

Of course, as the Time Lord confidently sauntered off to find said companion and buy her the trinket she's been admiring for the past ten minutes, he wasn't aware of just how serious his eventual decision would be.


	7. Small Print

Erm...you should be used to my month-plus absences by now? xD Anyhoo, I hope you're all having good holidays :3

Just a note that this will get darker (but if you've been following me for somewhile now, do I even need to say? lol). As in DarkTen. But not necessarily as a wolf...;)

Sorry if this is out of place or there are loads of errors. I've been really ill lately and am still recovering. I have a headcold as I write this...

* * *

><p>For once, the Doctor's hand in hers was alien. Funny, that. Normally his slighter cooler skin was a soothing comfort, especially in hot weather, the weight reassuring. His long fingers -surprisingly elegant for a man's-curled around her hand like a lifeline.<p>

The world seemed to to shrink around her, the weird and wonderful passerbys milling around faster than usual. She seemed to have zoned out, because everything had gone quiet.

It wasn't because of her that she might be leaving. It was _him._

Anxiety and the beginnings of cold, harsh fear began to trickle into her limbic system, and despite wanting to _let go, for God's sake!_ she remained anchored to the Doctor.

_Damn him._

Damn him and his preposterous infallibility and ridiculous charm. Pinstriped _idiot_.

Would she ever be able to make decisions again?

* * *

><p><em>The Wolf.<em>

_Not just a dream now._

_He could sense It, gently growling beside him. _

The Doctor's brow creased. He sensed a hesitance in Rose. He could _see_ it. Smell it on her (_only that bit he wouldn't admit, too 'weird' for a human')._

He'd experienced it enough to know it. The steady increase in heart rate. The release of acetylcholine, norepinephrine and epinephrine. Mydriasis. And above all the underscoring tang of sweat. Fear. Fight-or-flight.

But why? Rose knew she was safe with him...

_but is she? Really? After all you've done?_

The Doctor grit his teeth at the nagging voice -which for some reason donned a Northern accent and leather- and swatted it away, like an annoying insect.

Right. Now or never. He drew in a breath, looked around the dusty market as though it might present something.

"...Rose?"

She made a small, non-committal noise beside him. Her grip slackened. There was no eye contact.

She didn't even raise her head to _look_ at him. Not to, well, _look _kind of look.

Words faltered, flailing in his throat. Threads of nothing.

A quiet, terse, "Yes, Doctor?" He inhaled deeply again -and then, realized he hadn't let the previous one go. Air escaped him in a rush of syllables. His hearts clenched -not for her- but the fact he probably sounded like a rambling lunatic. A ursine passerby gave them a odd look beneath furry brows as they stopped in the middle of the small street.

Rose turned to him, just slightly. And the look in her eyes...well, it was something no human should experience.

He saw himself echoed.

"Doctor...I think..."

"What?" He almost tripped over her faint words in his eagerness to hear her, for it to be something..._good_.

He wasn't sure what. Or why he needed it.

"I think...we need to go visit my mum."

* * *

><p>The Doctor looked stumped. More than usual. He had looked rather <em>expectant<em>, like she was some kind of figure revealing a long-awaited a truth or something.

Oh, and how his face fell. It nearly made her laugh. Nearly.

"What? Now? Why? Is it something to do with _unmentionables_ again? 'Cos -as I told you before, " he blathered with a cocky swagger and an inclination of the head, "that launderette on Malos is amazing! You can wash all your stuff in more scents than Earth! _And_ its sorted by colour! Imagine that, Rose! You can smell the colours! Genius! Ha!"

His charisma and rambling was infectious- Rose felt a grin creeping up, the urge to laugh at his silliness that she was so fond of. She found herself joining in. Just playing along. It this...thing was sorted.

"Doctor, I don't think you understand...I can't just give my _unmentionables_ (she almost said underwear, or something, loved seeing him embarrassed with mundane 'human things'- it was adorable!) to a public place!"

"But...colours- and, all the..." He looked like a young boy who'd just been denied a favourite toy.

"Sorry, Doctor," she teased. "Mum's. Now."

"But I-"

"I thiiiink she has extra Jammy Dodgers..."

The Doctor sighed. The things he did for this girl...

* * *

><p>Whispers. Whispers. The Doctor had been exiled from the flat and told to 'tinker' after demolishing a whole packet of Jammy Dodgers and second mug of sweet tea.<p>

His inevitable sugar rush was latent, quelled by the anxiety roiling in his system. The whispers weren't the mundane, mother-to-daughter ones they had (some he'd previously wished he'd never heard), no, not this time. There was a virtual elephant in the room.

Funny that. Elephants. Pink! He should take Rose to New Earth again, where animal genetics took a funny turn and he _recalled_ there being some oddly coloured animals, like mixed colour washes...

And at this point he was with his ear to the wall. He was going to take the stethoscope out, but...Jackie might suspect something _weird_ and _alien_ if he was caught. He mentally shuddered at the possibilities of her suggestions.

The creak of the aged sofa alerted him and he jumped back from the door, tripping over his coat (he'd been crouching for ten minutes solid) and falling inelegantly onto the carpet. And it was not a comfy carpet.

Rose's head peered from a gap in the door. He just caught her rolling her eyes.

"Doctor, please."

"What? I thought I heard something in your wall. You never know, you might have an infestation of -of-"

Jackie joined the fray, appearing in the gap beside her slightly miffed-looking daughter. He felt ganged up on. By _women._

"You 'eard her! Shift! Go and play with your box, or whatever it is you do to your ship when we're not looking."

The Doctor spluttered. Jackie was making his relationship with the TARDIS sound obscene. "I don't-"

Rose's mouth was now a thin line of disapproval. His heart sank with the sickening realization she wasn't teasing anymore.

"Yeah...sure. I'll just...go." The Doctor left it at that, and an awkward silence cloaked them as he tried to leave, hoisting himself off of the ground in as dignified a way as Time Lord that had just _tripped over his own coat _could.

"Fine." His voice was clipped and had a grating tone that wasn't there before. He felt jumpy, and her evident displeasure, it was, well...

Not having the usual reaction.

The thing inside...it _liked_ the disfunction. Clawed for more.

The Doctor ran.

* * *

><p>"I don't <em>know<em>, Mum. It's not the first time he's been...weird..."

"Well, sweetheart, like I said, it's up to you. I'd say come back home -been saying it from the start- but...I can see the way he looks at you..."

"What?" Rose almost jarred her neck as she turned to look at her mum. Her expression was soft, but serious.

"Oh, come one, he would n't- I mean he- after all the-"

"Rose." Her hand -rougher than she remembered- clasped hers.

"I won't get in the middle of the two of ya, I mean, goodness knows what goes on. Can't even begin to understand it. But he promised. And if you so much as get hurt...well. I think he knows what's comin."

She relented. Maybe...there was hope.

"I s'pose. Thanks, mum."

A hug was shared, and Jackie watched with a slightly sinking heart as her daughter left, not for the first time. Into who knew what.


	8. Endlessly

Warning: This chapter is quite dark, and may scare you, particularly if your view of Ten/Rose is fluffy bunnies, kittens, and rainbows (or if you like to read fluffy things about them. THIS IS NOT FLUFF). So here's a heads-up if that sort of thing is...not your cup of tea...

* * *

><p>Rose was hiding.<p>

He wasn't sure he liked that.

She had no right to hide. Not from _him._

The TARDIS was trying to dissuade him as he stormed down the corridors, coat billowing around him, footsteps clanging on the metal grating. She presented him to him distracting words, symbols and algorithms. In her almost-maternal instinct she flashed in his mind, blinking red alarm. One of her circuits was damaged. The stubborn Time Lord, however, snorted and brushed her away like dirt on his jacket. His mind was narrowed down to this one thing now.

She wasn't _allowed_ to hide. His jaw tightened at the thought of her doing so. His fingers twitched with something primal, and then he shoved them in his pockets, continuing his mental tirade and angry, stiff step down the corridor.

The doors in the corridor quickly flitted down to the greenish, roundels walls. The Doctor practically ground his teeth in frustration. The TARDIS wasn't telling, and that was never good. He halted, taking a quick glimpse of the serpentine labyrinth of his ship. Time for a talk.

Slowing his hearts and willing his boiling blood to settle, he smoothed a hand over the roundels in what was like the caress of a lover.

"Come on, Old Girl...What's wrong?" His mind was open, golden and sparkling. She saw no resentment, and his tone was music. How could she deny an old friend?

"That's it...Now...tell me...where are you hiding her?" The TARDIS faltered, torn by what was clean and sparkling truth and what she really knew, deep down, in her circuits. And it really was in her circuits...everyone who has boarded her had a psychic imprint...Her Beloved being the strongest, but the Wolf Child almost second.

She's been with him since his youth. Such stricken youth. And she was stricken too. Cast off in the scrapyard.

What kindred spirits, both of them. And she'd seen him rise and fall. When he laughed, she rejoiced with him. And when he wept, she darkened with sorrow and despair.

And, now, the Wolf was in him too. It made her psychic hackles spike up, set her on end. Ripped black and bruised red shone bleakly through the gold. His smile and persuasion flickered for a moment. Then, hesitance.

"Please..." The Doctor was now braced against the wall, and his voice was sultry, vowels elongated in the way he knew made Rose's knees weak around him. But all his Beloved could see was lips that dripped with poison.

The Doctor froze at her denial. It was shaky, hesitant, but it was there. And oh how that made the best inside roar with injustice. He growled and shoved himself away from Her as if burned, reproach and displeasure writ in every tense angle. Fine. He'd just find Rose himself. He wasn't called a Time Lord for nothing. And this wasn't a _challenge_.It was practically sport. His lip curled into a twisted smirk as he found the very door he was looking for, blank and not really imposing. To anyone else it could have been a spare storage room.

Not this room. After the Time War savaged his precious TARDIS, her circuitry had been heavily damaged, a hair's breadth to being irreparable. Many rooms had been lost, the Zero Room included, in the Time War. Still, this had served for his...less pretty moments.

And that explained why he hadn't been able to sense her. This room had a telepathic dampening console within it. Rose wouldn't have had the slightest clue how to operate it, least understand it, which of course explained his ship. And it was up to full blast. He couldn't feel her mind at all. Not that it worried him in this state. He was just concerned with making his point known to her. And whether that involved blasting the door open...Wait.

Another smirk crossed his features. He could be quiet, sneak in. He was good at being silent; her inferior senses wouldn't even pick up his footsteps. He could quieten his breathing right down, could even halt it completely.

The Wolf inside him was pleased.

* * *

><p>The blankness was somehow soothing. Pure and tranquil. She felt <em>safe<em>, cocooned in the warmth. She wasn't sure what it was...but it was comforting. The TARDIS had heard her pleas not to be found and had led her here. A vast white room, seemingly unending, and empty save for a corner littered with some alien-like fabric slats. Those were awfully comfy too...

And now here she was, curled up small in this weird-yet-safe place, legs pulled up to her chest and arms braced on her knees as she replayed the events of the past few days. The Doctor was not himself, that much was clear. At first she thought it was one of his darker quirks. But then came his eerie evasiveness, simmering moods, and the bedroom incident that now made her wince.

Rose had a feeling that those moods weren't some weird Time Lordy PMS (who knew what sort of things his body underwent? it was possible...) She was pretty sure (but it was, admittedly, more of a hope) it was nothing to do with her.

Her head snapped up at sounds outside the door. The shadows of the room reflected in her eyes making them glassy pools. And anyone would have seen fear there if they looked closely enough.

She shook away the thought that it was the Doctor. She was safe, undetectable in here. She hadn't a clue about the dials and switches on the panel near the door, but she couldn't feel the Doctor's mind with what basic telepathy she had. So logic reasoned he couldn't sense her, right? Rose swallowed. She hoped in the TARDIS that her theory was correct.

Anyway, back to musing about a certain Time Lord- but not in _that_ kind of way.

Was it something he'd eaten? Or maybe licked, what with his stupid (_wonderful_) oral fixation. If not eaten...then ingested? Sniffed? Maybe he'd cut himself, _maybe_ he-

Rose's heart plummeted to somewhere past her ankles. Oh no.

Before terrifying thoughts of the Doctor transforming into some hairy monstrosity (strangely reminiscent of those from B-movies) could even begin to form, the door snicked open. Her body stiffened and she recoiled, eyes fixed on the floor. She didn't even bother searching for his mind. Her barriers went up.

And then there was silence. She waited. And waited. Time seemed to pass fractionally as she sat, and he stood, mute. But despite his silence and the length and breadth of the room, his eyes still bored into her very being.

Would he leave, or would she have to make him? If she honest, she didn't have the emotional ability to do that right now. And if she even more brutally honest...she was scared. He cut her down right to the quick.

Rose hunkered down as he made his turn. His footsteps were soft, yet too loud, and not regular enough. She just wanted it over with.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low, and soft. Yet it carried an intensity that set her blood cold and made her sneak a glimpse.

Bad move. Once he held her eyes, she was powerless to pull her gaze away.

It was well known to her and practically everybody that the eyes were the windows to the soul. And right now she saw _it._ Darkness and rage and sorrow and blood and ancient time. They were dark chips and his mouth was one long line.

"I'm...thinking". Her voice was a octave higher than normal and she nearly squeaked at the end, feeling her heart pick up speed. The adrenaline was sickening now.

One step closer.

"You had to hide from me to think?" Every word was pronounced clearly and with a soft malice. He barely moved.

Rose hardened her neck against him. "And? You do it all the time."

She could see one hand twitch and clench before being shoved into his coat pocket. "That's not the point, Rose." This time his mouth barely moved.

"What point? I can't see any points other than the _point _of you bein' like this."

He rolled his eyes as he moved toward her with stealth, and it made her feel like she was nothing to him, a specimen to merely look over, a disgust to him.

"Oh, Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose-"

"Don't come anywhere near me." She had pushed herself to her feet and was rooted to the spot, ready to bolt. His mouth twitched and he did actually stop.

_okay, girl, now don't push it._

"An' stop saying my name like that."

_oh._

Before she could process it she was shoved back into the wall. A cry of pain fell from her at the impact. The Doctor's long, elegant fingers dug into her arms and his body was pressed into hers. She could feel the slight heat between the layers of fabric that separated them, along with every line. They leant shoulder-to-shoulder, hips, thighs and knees meeting. In any other situation this was her wildest dream come true.

But not like this.

"You don't have the power to say that to me, Rose." His chilly breath fanned over her face and neck. "I'm a Time Lord."

Rose would have tried to stare defiantly at him (_yeah, like she didn't know that already_) but the angle was awkward, his face practically in hers. She struggled to relieve the dull throb in her forearms as the muscles protested but this only succeeded in him pinning her wrists to the cold alien material behind her.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with." He growled this, and she shivered. She felt his lips curl against her cheek in a demented smirk.

"I could break you oh, so easily." As if to emphasis his point, the grip on her slender wrists tightened, fraction by fraction. Her wrist was being molded into an odd angle by his strong fingers and she sucked in a breath. "One snap...all it would take. Like breaking a twig." His voice grated on the last word, teeth gritted. Rose squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as hard as she dared without drawing blood as the pressure increased. The pain resonated deep within her and she writhed a little against him. Oh God...he was really going to do it.

Then came a soft burr against her cheek, so polar to the steady vice on her wrists. Once she realized that it was a sickeningly sweet nuzzle, her gorge rose.

She could throw up on him...but in this state she didn't know if even that would deter him. She could at least try. Rose wasn't a London girl for nothing; she'd encountered bastards like this before.

The Doctor sighed and leant back a little. He took his pointer finger and turned her head towards him. "Oh, Rose. Look at me."

Oh, hell no. This was not happening. The Doctor wasn't coming here all moody and blustery and Oncoming Storm, only to pull a Time Lord shagging whammy on her.

He nuzzled again, and then leant in.

And then was shoved back with more strength than he thought of capable of possessing. In his blip of a confused 'What?' he made to move forward again, and was met with a Tyler slap.

"I already said not to come near me." Her eyes were blown, blonde hair framing her face and with her shoulders hunched and body tensed she looked like a caged animal.

The Doctor, for once, was stunned, snapped out of his trance.

"I may be a lowly shop girl, but I have my pride," she hissed lowly. "Now get out!"

"I-"

"Get out!"

For once the Doctor then did as he was told. And he didn't just run, he bolted, carried on a wavelength and hearing her slump to her knees and cry, but not daring to turn back.


	9. Madness

I actually wrote the first bit of this listening to some of the many beautiful pieces composed by Murray Gold (who is amazing, the show wouldn't be without him)

These include most of Ten's 'final moments' ones..I think 'Vale' sums it all up here :c It's meant to be a lull in all the intense active emotion.

And yes the words are Martha's, from s3.

/runs from angry mob

* * *

><p>In the endless depth of the Time Vortex, the TARDIS lamented. She groaned deep in her heart with the agony of bearing her passengers' guilt and sorrow and anger and distrust.<p>

The Golden Child, her little Wolf, she was scared. In the safety of her room -pink and human- she sat huddled. Her mind was a bruised mess, thoughts chasing their ragged tales. There was no ending nor beginning to them. Her Wolf clung to her Time Lord, and likewise he too to her. Yet she wanted to leave. Because there was Wolf in the Doctor. She didn't know how, or why. She just _knew. _A small backpack with her life's worth sat by her feet, and her gaze was faraway. But her jaw was tight with resolution. She was going to do it.

She nearly didn't feel the single lone tear that ran down her cheek as memories overtook her. Perhaps they were capable of so much more...

_It wasn't fair. _Wasn't fair that their lives had to be this way. Even though -from the moment she'd ran into that TARDIS...she knew it wouldn't be easy.

But...that was just the human in her. And the Doctor _wasn't_ human.

_She was going to do it._

* * *

><p>And then there was Him. The beast now relenting, defeated.<p>

The Doctor sat slumped on the jump seat, head in hands.

What in Rassilon's name had he _done? _A spasm of intense emotion rippled through him, and he choked on a gasp, folding in on himself, head bowed.

_It wasn't fair_.

He had hurt her. And yet he _hadn't_. That hadn't been him, not really. _Just a twisted doppleganger_. His lip curled at the thought of what he'd done.

The Doctor turned to look at his hands, flipped them over, staring. The memory of him...threatening Rose like that...using brutal force, and more strength than she of course possessed. He felt physically ill. Ill at not only what had occurred but how it could have progressed. The force in him -the mutagen- it was evidently accelerating his emotions. And with that came how he felt about Rose. He had promised to himself to deny his hearts...because if he didn't there would only be heart-wrenching loss.

If he didn't stop the mutagen...he could lose more than his dignity. He could lose Rose. In more ways than one.

He had to do it even though before all this mess...he would have _dared_.

The Doctor rose from his seat, scouring his face with his hands, not noticing the wetness that came away from them.

Because if he didn't dare, everyone would suffer.

And so he donned his coat, fidgeted with the lapels a little. His footsteps seemed impossibly loud as he retraced his path down the ancient corridors. The door in his vision was like a siren's call.

He stood and swallowed. This was it.

The door was already ajar, so he pushed it open. The slight creak (how come he hadn't gotten around to oiling that?) made her face flick to his. Fear warred with resolution in her eyes. They seemed ..._endless. _

_And he felt vulnerable. _Like they had swapped roles. He wasn't the high-and-mighty Time Lord for once.

"Rose."

It was pleading, funnily enough. It wasn't angry -as he expected it to be, somehow. In fact he didn't even know _what_ it was.

"I know."

But clearly she understood. His eyes flicked away from hers, dropping the intense gaze that was making him squirm. Tension crackled between them, and her foot twitched -drawing his gaze to the small backpack by them.

Memories of her joining him after all that Christmas chaos - both of them happy and slightly nervous. New him, of course.

"So this it is, then." He tried to keep his voice flat, emotionless.

"End of the line, I guess." The Doctor flinched at that and looked away.

"You an' me, we made a good team." Hope swelled in his hearts as he looked back to her, mouth tight. He daren't say anything. Part of him wanted to scream and rant, and then crush her tightly to him.

"Yeah." Faintly he said this. And then he turned on his heel and departed, before he would do anything (if it was possible) _more stupid._

* * *

><p>So here they were. The ol' team. At the end of the line. The one place he'd thought they'd never reach. (<em>but what about when she got older? what then?)<em>

The TARDIS grumbled her displeasure and he sucked in a breath as she reluctantly turned her engines. The Doctor set his jaw against the jelly-like feeling deep in his stomach -sick fear and despair- and gripped the console edges as they tilted in flight.

Rose, she was still standing, not a hair out of place. That thought -the thought that she really was passenger- made him swallow past a lump in his throat. He willed the TARDIS to land sooner, feeling the backs of eyes his prick and tingle.

Then, the steady _thunk_ as they landed and the whir as the engines powered down.

"I guess it's goodbye then." His gaze was trained resolutely on a spot just past her shoulder. The bite to his voice didn't even gauge a reaction. Not a twitch.

"S'pose it's for the best."

"Yep."

"Bye, Doctor."

And she was gone.

_Rose had left him._ The Doctor was still in the same position that he was in three-point-twenty-five seconds ago; arms locked onto the console, body practically paralysed. He wanted to run after her. And then it was the click of the door that broke him. Eyes wide in disbelief, with his typical eyebrow raised. He shook on the spot, pupils unfocussed. The brevity of her words finally sank in.

And somewhere, distant and tickling in the back of mind, words echoed, unfamiliar.

_This is me, Getting Out._

The Doctor stayed like that for quite a long time.


	10. Apocalypse Please

Ahhh! I'm sorry for all the fluff but with angst! I'm mean, I know :c

(I'm hoping the last chapter didn't scare anyone off? I was just wondering...what with the lack of reviews...)

Nothing here really furthers the plot as such...

* * *

><p>"Anythin' I else can get ya, love?"<p>

Rose turned her head slightly to the ruddy-faced barman, slouched over the counter looking at her questioningly.

"No...you're alrigh'" She ran her fingers round the rim of her glass, three-quarters full with orange and soda. The barman raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and sauntered off to the taps.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since her fateful decision.

No one had made a fuss. Jackie hadn't been exactly sober when Rose crept in the flat, shoulders slumped, and she'd put it down to, well, Jackie not being sober. But come the next morning her words were pretty much that of her last visit. Like she knew it would happen. And Rose would be lying if she hadn't admitted to _herself_ that it could have happened.

And just like that she was back to her run-of-the-mill life. If it wasn't boring and endless before...well...

She'd been helping Mum a lot with her clients, and an errant thought struck her. Within the day she was involved in small community college course, mental health and caring and all that. If she couldn't help herself then she might at well help others. And that was another thing travelling had nurtured; not that she was selfish beforehand but it put a new spin of perspective on things.

_And she felt useful._

Rose took a sip of her drink, suddenly quite thirsty. The citrus was tangy and refreshing, and the sharp bubbles were like excitement down her spine. It reminded her of the sweet nectar of a drink she and the Doctor had sample on Laylah. After saving the planet from its own unknown demise they'd celebrated with the natives. The drinks came in coloured not-quite-glass and were unlike anything on Earth. After all that running they were both gasping for water, and Rose was dubious of the drink because it was so saccharine. However, it was melodious and wonderful, quenching her thirst with but a few drops. She was almost disappointed she couldn't finish it off, because she was no longer thirsty.

The Doctor however, had quickly polished his off in one long swig -practically open-throated. He finished with a smack of his lips, breathing out a loud, contented sigh and sensing a wave of fragrant air fanning over her. Then she giggled, for his hair was mussed and slightly damp, suit dishevelled and to complete the look, a pearl of the liquid had escaped past his lips. It rolled down them, over and down that pouty lower lip that was fuller than his upper one.

And she just couldn't help herself. The next thing she'd scraped her stool over to him, hand almost grasping out to his tie...and then she licked it off.

And kissed him.

Rose suddenly felt rather ill, and pushed her still half-full glass away. The memory of their lips sliding past each other and the fruit tang with an almost syrupy quality to it was too much.

* * *

><p>The Doctor, meanwhile, lay half-asleep, lazing in his bed.<p>

Ever since..._that_, he'd spent more time in this room. He didn't know what to do with himself. But it wasn't like he hadn't _tried. _With a spin of dials he was at a Firebug convention where he had settled a dispute between a family of Pyrovilles. Two taps of the mallet sent him hurtling to Vesoer in its primordial days. He saw the creation of its five suns and shivered at their power. And then he used the randomiser.

Edwardian England. Sheff, where he befriended Tousev, a monk. New Earth again, where he sat on a lone field, the apple grass withering.

Ancient Rome.

_London._

After that he'd shouted at the TARDIS and had stormed in a violent rage, jerking her into action. He found just where he was looking for; a smokey watering-hole aptly named _The Black Hole_. There he downed the equivalent of a strong whiskey, the drink icy and frothing. He went and put forth another order, leading the crocodiliian bar-tender to grunt a comment about the night still being young. And then it wasn't until half-way through his second glass that he froze. His fingers curled around the short stem and he stared into the concoction as though it might yield answers.

Is this what he was now? A mighty Time Lord reduced to nothing over a mere human girl, nearly drinking his brains out over her leaving him?

_Crack._

Gazes were drawn to his fist which clenched the glass so tightly he had begun a split in the side. A blue-skinned, white-haired woman smoking languidly on a hookah blew out elegant rings and looked his way.

"Lost a bet, Mishallah?"

The Doctor's mouth quirked at the rather dirty endearment. He turned his line of sight to her, and then back to the musty windows, seeing nothing.

"Perhaps."

"So you're going to spend all night drinking your sorrows?" Another puff. "You're not the first man I've seen to do so..."

He quirked his eyebrow this time. "Maybe I'm not just any man." The woman was a Sil'ra and a mild telepath. And in his self-pitying state he let tendrils of his battered and bruised aura extend -just slightly- before letting them recede. He didn't like letting go of his identity, generally. But...self-pity.

The woman paused in mid-breath and then exhaled sharply. "But..."

He stood up, placed his glass- then thought better and downed it anyway- and lifted his chin.

"Time Lord?"

"I used to be."

The Sil'ra watched as he left, coat billowing, and sighed. She barely knew him, and yet from that one touch, she knew everything. His pain, his loss...his love. Love as she'd never experienced or even heard of. It burned so brightly that it _hurt_.

As was the life of a lonely Time Lord.


	11. Panic Station

Enjoy! This sort of veered from what I originally had planned... *shakes fist at plot bunnies* Long chapter!

Also: Billie has been seen filming for the DW 50th special, with David. Ahahaha... my inner fangirl is dying with happiness overload.

One particular scene here is a reference to a film in which Steve Carell stars (as main lead) ...because it was funny and I felt like it. xD

* * *

><p>Rose let her keys clatter to the glass-topped sideboard with a sigh. She felt tired,and bone-weary - as if not even weeks of sleep could do her good. And as for immersing herself in work...well it wasn't the mindless 9-to-5 she had short of two years ago, but it didn't <em>help.<em>

She dropped her heavy, book-laden bag to the floor and slumped on the large sofa. Her mother had been wrong. Her mother didn't know what it was like to be with the Doctor. No, scratch that. What is what like to _live_ with the Doctor. And to live in general. Not the endless day-to-day life everybody else had. How did they cope? Rise, work or school, eat, sleep and repeat. Like some twisted rinse cycle.

Goodness, now she was even beginning to _sound_ like him.

She dragged one hand down her face in an emulation of just being damn tired of it all, probably smudging her make-up in the process. She didn't care any more. She just wanted to lay down her weary head and her battered heart and sleep for a very long time.

Just as her eyelids were drooping, her phone trilled in her bag, and the vibrations tickled her leg muscles. Was probably her mother. Ever since she'd been very clingy. Rose could kind of understand her reasoning and had even tried to sympathise with Jackie's maternal instincts, but after while she had grown irritated. Which, in all honesty, surprised her. Beforehand -when she was a naive young woman with empty hopes- she had lavished that.

Now she had got to _that _age. The age when children -that are no longer such- move on. Forget their childhood heroes. Or so some of her friends had said.

Her mobile ceased and the room became silent once it wasn't just your ordinary silence. It was silence that almost spoke of how she felt, inside. Not just empty, but bottomless. The walls were white, had been since she'd moved into this tiny flat and it was if she could lose herself in them. And she had done this quite a few times. And more noticeably now, she felt something unearthly when she looked at that wall. It wan't just the object so much, it was more like the _colour_ affected her directly. Of course colour affected everybody and she remembered reading about it being so powerful that some people had colour synaesthesia as a result. It was also the colour of mourning in some areas.

The steady buzz of her phone once more made her roll her eyes. Rummaged through her bigger-on-the-inside bag, she found it and huffed when the screen showed her mum's beaming face. She might as well concede defeat now.

"Rose, where are you?" Her mum's voice was chipper as ever.

"M' at home. Just got in actually..."

"You don't sound happy, sweetheart. I said you shouldn't have moved out-"

_"Mum-"_

"Well, at least not so _soon._ I mean, what with- Anyway. I wish you'd come on over."

"To be honest, I'm really tired, Mum, I dunno..."

"Well I'm not surprised what with your job, sweetheart. I understand it's what you want."

"There was quite a bit of commotion today...Couple passed away."

There was a moment of awful silence and Jackie let out a nasal, weary sigh.

"Then just come over for a tea." Pause. "Please?"

And there it was. Defeat.

"Okay. Just lemme get changed and I'll be over at 6, okay?"

Rose got up and stretched. Maybe defeat was a good thing after all.

And if the Doctor came back, so what?

* * *

><p>"Oh, bollocks!" Small flares bloomed and white-hot sparks spat at the Doctor as he made the wrong connection. Again.<p>

He'd been trying to convince himself for the past _day _that the real reason he was just finding things to mend was so he didn't thing of her. Oh, and his furry little problem. Which actually hadn't been too bad.

Another reflex later and the Doctor had drawn back from the dusty console underside, wringing his burned fingers and hissing some more expletives, ones the TARDIS refused to translate. Not that anyone was actually here to listen to them or anything. Of course that didn't bother him._  
><em>

More sparks, and in the back of his head, niggling.

_Liar._

He protested indignantly. "I most certainly am not!"

Faint colours and shapes and concentric circles brushed his mind. Dark, worried purple blinded him in thick stripes, mixed in with an even darker orange radiating her distrust of him. And in the middle of it all, pure gold.

"I can't." The penny dropped. It had ever since he'd been attacked by that wretched creature. The TARDIS grumbled at him lowly, purple merging into red, creating a sickly, bright composition that hurt behind his eyes.

Her colours threw questions at him. Ones he'd asked him over and over now -and knew the answers to.

_Why?_

He opened his mouth to make an excuse. Then she reminded him what happened last time they played around with colour, so to speak.

_All words and no talk._

The hues and everything else, his damnation and ninth self's nagging tone-it was too much.

"Alright!" He snapped at her, and was loud, but she was louder and brighter. "Ok. I'll go and see her." He hadn't admitted that he would talk to her, however. Somehow he felt he wasn't getting out of this easily, though.

The Doctor spun on his heel to get his coat when she grumbled at him, a mauve alert. "Oh, what now?"

After all these years of being bonded with his TARDIS, she was still very much her own being. And he couldn't always understand her. (And he had to stop blaming his blunders on that).

He frowned. The emotions she seemed to be evoking were not new to him. But he couldn't quite place it-

Ah. Self. Wait, as in him?

"What?"

The screen nearest to him twitched with a slight whir. He walked over to it and stared. The screen was blank.

"I-"

Ohhh. Did he really look that _that?_ Apparently the Doctor had let his appearance go a little more than he thought. He didn't need a spotless mirror to see that he looked a state. His mop of hair really was a mop. Well, it was always a mop in the sense of it being a mess but it was unkempt in the 'just-got-out-of-bed' way. And not the sexy way. His skin was paler than normal and his facial hair -Rassilon, how did it get like that? He refrained from keeping a near-beard because of the pretence it could have - it could be next to godly on some planets but the lowest of the low on others. With the scraggly whiskers sprouting everywhere and lightly coloured with a hint of ginger, he looked a wreck.

But about nineteen minutes later he was freshly washed and shaved. His step was once of confidence as a jacket was put on and tie adjusted. He didn't feel _ready_, per se. But he did feel better.

"Allons-y..."

* * *

><p>Jackie grimaced at her dish-pan hands as she finished drying the last tea-mug. Well, it was worth it for her daughter. The Doctor had offered to put some kind of newfangled machine that did her washing-up for her but she politely rejected.<p>

She wiped down the sides and then walked in the living-room, where Rose was curled up on the sofa. A sudden thought struck her.

"Um, Rose?"

"Mmmm?"

The doorbell buzzed.

"I -oh, I'll just get that. Be with you in a tic."

"'K."

Jackie gingerly opened the door (now battered from various encounters that always seemed to happen in her flat) to a very familiar man.

"Hello, Jackie. Is Rose in?"

Jackie took the sight of him in. Suit and trousers, no fashion sense as usual. And there was something else.

"Well, yes, my daughter is here. But you're damned if you think you're gonna come in here lookin' like a hobo."

"I-what?" The look of pure confusion and his scrunched-up brow was almost cute.

"I mean, _you_, you numpty. I know this is London but even us lot look after our face."

The Doctor opened his mouth to talk, and then his frown deepened. His hand came up to cup his chin and met, not the smooth skin or even slight stubble that he would expect, but feathery hairs and bristle.

Hadn't he shaved all but of twenty minutes ago?

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure Rose is used to things like this now." The Doctor was still gaping a bit. "Well, in you come then, you daft plum!" Stumped, the Doctor numbly followed Jackie into the airy flat.

* * *

><p>Something in the air changed and Rose frowned a little as her mum and another figure came into the room. She didn't look up but stared ahead as not just the atmosphere, but almost time seemed to shimmer.<p>

Well, that could only mean one thing.

"Well, his nibs is here." _(Oh yes, of course not using his name would make it better.)_ A moment passed. "I'll leave you to. Be in my room."

Once the door had shut, the Doctor took swallowed and took a deep breath through his nose. Rose lowered her gaze to her lap where a heavy tome rested. She felt the sofa dip as the Time Lord sat down next to her. He wasn't even that far from her -was giving her respectful space- but they normally sat so close together, and not casually. Other day she was practically nestled in the cradle of his crossed legs as he read to her. His double heartbeat against her back had lulled her off to sleep in the end.

She looked at her book, the pages just blurred grey-scale now. The sofa creaked and the Doctor cool breath tickled her shoulder and neck as he leaned over to nose at her choice of reading.

"Ooh, old Stubbs? Rassilon, that was a scene when Georgey was working on _'_Whistlejacket'. The old boy kicked up quite a scene with him in his stables. All snorting and that. I'm surprised he even finished the portrait actually."

"Doctor." When he turned to look at Rose, he cringed -not for the first time- at his stupid, _stupid_ blathering. Her brows were drawn down in faint disbelief and her eyes welled with some emotion he couldn't work out.

"Somehow I don't think you've come here to talk about a book." Her voice was soft and made guilt rise like bile in his throat as she quietly shut the tome and pushed it to one side.

"No," she simply said as he went to speak -at which he shut it with an audible clack. She tucked her hands into her lap and seemed to fold in on herself, away from him.

"When we were outside that chip shop that night, I didn't know what to think. But I knew -for some, _daft_ idea, " her voice wavered, "that I could trust you. I didn't really understand. I still don't. And I thought you made sense. I thought you meant it."

The Doctor's mouth opened and closed, brain working overtime. "So, tell me...was that a lie?"

"I..." The words had dried up for him. He knew what to say, and his very blood was burning with his need to say. But he couldn't.

"'Cos...I need to know, Doctor.

She watched as he hunched over and palmed his face with his hands. The messy facial hair should have struck a note with her, but it didn't.

"Rose...Come with me."

She sat up, rod-straight, and her eyes blazed. "I didn't _say I was-"_

The Doctor put his palms out in supplication, terrified she would leave him again. "No, no, no. I didn't mean- Please. Just to talk."

"But why- never mind. Fine. Long as we're not gone ages."

* * *

><p>Rose felt the TARDIS groan deep in her heart and touch her mind eagerly as she stepped up the ramp, behind the Doctor. It was like an over-friendly dog greeting her. She steeled her mind against it, squirming a little with a unspoken apology and settling comfortably against a coral strut.<p>

"Rose, you don't have to stay all the way over there." The Doctor looked vulnerable, leaning over the console.

She huffed and crossed her arms, moving to the next nearest strut. "Happy? I'm not exactly plannin' on staying _(not yet, anyway)._

He continued to stare at her, and she felt like one of his specimens being examined. "Go on then, you brought me in here. Spill."

The Doctor looked concerned -no, _upset_- at her words. "Rose, you are more than welcome in the TARDIS. Why are you behaving like this?"

When his companion's jaw set and her eyes blackened a little, he more than knew he had phrased that wrong.

"Excuse me?" The TARDIS grumbled at him.

Okay, more like said it wrong entirely.

"_I'm _the one playing up? What about you? I'm blond, not stupid! What's so wrong with you that you can't even tell me, Doctor? Am I just a warm body? Please tell me I'm more than that. Because that's what you seemed to hint at Deffrey Vale. And what about Christmas? Second chances? Do I, Doctor? Do I bloody well get a second chance?"

Rose had advanced on him, and if he was honest -he was _scared_. Scared because he'd messed up more times than he could count on one hand. Scared because he didn't know what to say.

Scared because he loved her.

"Well?" Rose demanded. The timelines around her blazed and warped and they were beautiful. No mere human could overwhelm him with speech -it was all emotion and he could steel his defences against them- but Rose was no mere human. The Wolf in her growled and sang. The hairs on his nape stood erect and her very being aroused all his senses.

"Oh, Rose. I-"

And then everything exploded. The TARDIS roared to life and her ancient engines spun, sparks spurting everywhere. They both looked around, equal part alarm and titillation as they moved clumsily into the Vortex.

"What are you doing?" Her plea was almost a screech more than reminiscent of Jackie Tyler. He jumped to action, gripping into the console, white-knuckled.

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Oh no. You're not doing this to me!" Rose looked genuinely fearful. She was trying to conceal it as panic, moving around and trying to avoid any pending bumps and crashes -but it there under the surface.

"I'm not!" With a crackle and snap, the circuit-board nearest to the Doctor's face exploded in smoke and fire and he leapt back, coughing.

"You take me back, Doctor! Take me back!

As the TARDIS careened out of control and they were left clinging for dear life, the Doctor tried to, he really did. But it was as if the TARDIS was in this. Working against him. Against them both.

He only hoped the old girl knew what she was doing.


	12. Explorers

Not too much here, just to move the plot along a little. Next couple of chapters is, as one of my reviewers said, where it gets 'hair-raising!' (literally).

* * *

><p>The back of the Doctor's skull throbbed with every pulse of his hearts as he squinted through smoke and dim light. He could also feel semi-congealing blood matting on the nape of his neck and trickling round to his jaw. But his external condition (and internal, because there was some major bruising right by his ribs) didn't concern him at all. Even checking for Rose was pushed aside by what he felt.<p>

Absolute fury. Fury in that this was no mere accident, and neither was it just a spontaneous trip. The TARDIS had actually blown one of her circuits in order to get his (or their) attention. The Doctor got to his knees gingerly and eyed the blackened strip of console, still sparking lightly.

"Poor little TARDIS. Has to blast off a circuit just to get her own way, all because no-one will listen to her." His lips curled and wrapped themselves around the words in a sneer. She replied with a low, grating rumble and then fell silent, evidently concentrating on fixing all her self-broken links.

Well, once less thing to worry about. The Doctor wafted the smoke away as he carefully trod through all the debris, seeking a familiar figure. And he found it, hunched over and eyeing him warily as he approached.

He knelt down next to Rose and tucked her into him with one arm. Despite his distancing from her he still needed to reassure himself there was something left for them. She didn't exactly push back into his half-embrace, but she didn't push away either.

"You okay?" She then met his eyes and mustered a weak smile.

"I think I'll live." Rose turned to look at the now grey console. "What happened?"

Not _what's wrong. _So she didn't hear his slightly demeaning conversation with his ship?

"Ohhh, just some technical hiccup. Nothing too bad."

They both knew he was lying through his teeth.

Rose's gaze flicked about somewhat uncomfortably as the Doctor thought of what to do. It eventually zeroed in on the stains on his neck that stood out in stark contrast to his pale dermis.

"Doctor, you're hurt..." He was stopped in his thought processes by her tone and didn't register Rose shifting towards him and reaching out to his wound. Her warm fingers just brushed the fine hairs and then he froze.

"Don't." He snapped at her, out of fear. The previous physical contact they shared was fine -because he started it. But this was Rose and he couldn't handle contact like that right now. But her eyes welled again -but not with tears- and his wounds throbbed with guilt as well as incessant pain.

"I mean...that hurts. But it's fine. Nothing a knock to the noggin' didn't do to me over these years." He was obviously playing on sarcasm and Rose felt her mouth quirk at the statement.

"So, where are we?"

All this while he'd been having palpitations over where they could possibly be. The TARDIS was obviously trying to shift things along, and what was most likely out there was some planet of the werewolves. But one question still lingered even as he answered his companion with an apologetic shrug and stood up.

Why was she doing this? What possible good was there in him finally completing the mutation and turning into some great bloody canine with an insatiable instinct to kill anything? _and everyone._

"Not sure. But we should check it out." He hoped she didn't catch a waver in his voice because right now, he'd never been so scared.

* * *

><p>A everyday, Earth-blue sky greeted them, streaked with red and orange, the remains of what was sunrise an hour ago. Further ahead fields flanked by hedges sprawled forever into the horizon.<p>

If any other new traveller were with them, the first most likely thought would be that it looked no different to Earth. But he and Rose were now seasoned travellers. You couldn't just judge what a planet was by its appearance.

This time, however, the Doctor oh so had hoped it would have been. He didn't recognise it at all, which worried him. But he did know what planets similar to Earth often shared similar characteristics. Things like axis tilt and cycles. Solar and lunar cycles.

"Doctor?"

"Hm?"

Clearly he had been zoning out, judging by the expression on Rose's face.

"I was saying, I can see something over there." She shielded her face from the bright sun and pointed over to their far right. Nestled in between a tumbling river valley was what looked like cottage-like buildings. Looking in closer (and no, he wasn't looking for wolves) he could see figures milling about.

"Civilization! Let's go and meet the locals!"

* * *

><p>Kylos brushed his hands free of the reddish dust and stood up to glance at the post-dawn sun. Although having the blood of ancestral shaman kin running through his veins he was like any other Freisan -which included chores. Skinny-legged chickens hopped out of his way as he walked toward the town square. He squinted ahead at the mass of figures not normally in the square at this time of day. Shula was there as well, dressed in a floaty green tunic.<p>

"_Sola._ What's happening? Is the great _Kirara _upon us now?" This was a joke he and Shula frequently shared, a jibe at the fanatical reverents in their town, who believed the so-called Great _Kirara_, a fiery supernatural entity that shared its roots with all things canine, would one day wreak apocalypse on the unwary. It was all nonsense of course, and making fun of them often gave them much amusements. But Shula looked far from amused. He looked worried.

Shula turned to him, something odd in his expressive ebony eyes. "Travellers."

Kylos frowned and stood on the tip of his dusty, sandal-clad feet, trying to see closer. Whispers moved around them like smoke. And everybody looked worried. But some other Freisan in front of him shifted and finally he could see the figures. Far taller than even the eldest Freisan, and they had very pale skin. He could see one was most likely a woman; her hair was long and she wore a tunic-like garment of some sort. The male had a long robe and fabric on his legs.

He could sense their auras exceptionally clear among the dim mass of everybody elses' -because they were so bright. The male's writhed and shook and he couldn't place it. It was unlike anything he'd seen. As for the female's, hers was not too different from their own. There were some kinks that were a result of her being another species- like the genetic signature.

Wait! There was something else! Kylos almost squinted again as he tried to place it. It was like...she had two auras. Which was most strange. And the latter screamed something at him. Whispers, murmurs.

Something that cried wolf.

* * *

><p>"Well, it seems someone is happy to see us," the Doctor quipped as they strolled toward the mass. Beside him Rose muttered "Yeah, or maybe we're unwelcome guests here."<p>

"Unwelcome-schmelcome. I believe I have the psychic paper?"

Rose sighed. Sometimes the Doctor was just too prepared, and it often got them into trouble.

The crowd actually seemed to shrink back as they neared it, and she could hear the word '"travellers" repeatedly being bandied among them. It suddenly occurred to them that perhaps this was a civilization under oppression. Her thoughts were quelled when an elderly-looking member of the species braved forth. It was then she worried for the Doctor's infamous gob when she saw the alien -_native, _she corrected, they were the aliens here- fixing them with an iron stare.

"Hello there!"

"Doctor." She mumbled this under her breath, eyes downcast.

"Me and my friend here just happened to stumble here. May I enquire as to the owner of this fine establishment?"

Rose glanced around at the slightly shoddy cottages and the scrawny chickens running hither and thither in the background and looked in utter disbelief at the Doctor. What was he playing at?

"Nah, I'm joking. I'm the Doctor and this is Rose. And you are?"

The elder didn't reply, and the crowd were emotionless. Rose felt her heart sink to her gut.

"Who are you, and how did you get here?"

"I just said, I'm the Doc-

"No-one has come to Yavos in all eternity. It is impossible for you to be here."

"Well, I like a bit of impossible-" His attitude was really starting to grate her nerves now, what with the happenings between them of late.

"_Doctor."_

_"What?"_

__Rose inclined her head to the crowd who now looked as stony as the elder.

"This celestial body is surrounded by a dark nebula that is impossible to navigate. Most explorers would perish immediately. No-one can make through it."

The Doctor was silent as he processed this, and frowned.

"Nevertheless, you and your...friend," he let the word flow with distaste, "should be detained until we decide what to do." Rose blinked at his words as more bulky natives appeared from nowhere and seized them both. She felt that this bloke's expression of 'we' in how they would be treated meant him alone.

* * *

><p>"Well, at least that explains why our ride here was so bumpy." The Doctor was hunched against the wall of his small dingy cell that smelt of animal odour. She could see his eyes flicking a mile a minute and could practically hear the cogs in his big ol' Time Lord brain going as he thought of a plan to get them out and, preferably, off this planet.<p>

Rose didn't say anything, just mulled over the events of the past few days.

"Rose?"

She let a few moments pass before turning to face him through the organic bars. "Yes?" She didn't bother to conceal the terseness of her tone.

"I will get us out of here, you know. It's not the first time. And this is certainly one of the nicer cells we've been in."_  
><em>

Her mind was adrift as she replied, the words automatic.

"I know, Doctor. I know."

* * *

><p>Goodness knew how much time later, Rose opened her eyes full and her ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps. The Doctor must have heard it too, as he finally ceased the various mumblings to himself, that had been going on, well, for however long they'd been in this stupid cell.<p>

Oh. It was one of the natives (obviously) but this one was visibly younger and his expression was actually apologetic and offering as he approached.

"Hello?"

The Doctor calmly turned to regard him. "Well, I suppose it's hello. Not too sure with the evident lack of hospitality here, though."

The youth ducked his head in what was probably shame at his species or something. "I'm sorry for Tulor's is a great shaman here, and since we have no leader at the moment, his word is, well..." He shrugged, trying to search for right words.

"Law?" The Doctor got on his knees near behind the bars, completing the boy's sentence.

The youth nodded. Then some emotion flickered across his blueish face and he looked eager to speak. "I have...taken it upon myself to speak to him. I have, that is to say, advantages above the others. I believe he is rethinking it.

Rose frowned but kept quiet.

"I just had to come and see you too. I mean, as you heard, we don't get visitors."

"But that's not why you came, is it...?"

The youth puzzled over this mystical man's words before realizing what he was wanting.

"Oh. Kylos."

"So, Kylos, " the man rolled his name about his mouth in an odd way, "what brings you here?"

"Well, I-" Kylos faltered, looking down at his dusty tunic. He was not exactly social, had never been and now was suddenly shrinking back. But from the depths of him he found a thread of courage and grasped hold of it firmly.

"It is, well, your auras. Yours," he turned to face the Doctor, "is so strange. It's like you have many auras but they all are one at the same time. And none are ever still. Even the air moves about you." Kylos held the Doctor's eyes with his soulful black ones before turning to Rose. "And you, at first yours seem normal, but once I look again...you have two. One still, one shimmering. Most odd."

Kylos' eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement as he regaled these words to them. Rose mouthed '_auras?' _to the Doctor, seeking conformation.

"You're a telepath." It was a statement, not a question, and she detected a lilt of something in his voice.

Kylos nodded. "Yes. I come from a family of shamans. It is said that each has his own ability. Apparently mine is this gift -very rare. And the only other one who has this is Tulor..." His nose wrinkled. "Sometimes I don't think it's a gift."

"Mmm, I can relate to that." The Doctor was looking at Kylos, and yet he wasn't. His mind seemed faraway and for a shining moment Rose didn't want to be human, she wanted to be _like_ him, so she could truly understand him. None of this walking-on-eggshells crap they were currently doing.

Rose went to speak but her question evaporated in her mouth as Kylos was scrutinising her with his expressive gaze again. Then his eyes rolled and he was in a deep state of thinking, looking at them but not.

"Wha-"

The Doctor put a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. They waited (and tried not to watch) for a few moments until Kylos came out of his trance,or whatever, and smiled at them.

"Good news. Tulor has reconciled and is letting you free."

Rose let the breath she'd been unconsciously holding go free, relief flooding her chest. The Doctor made a pleased sound next to her.

"On one condition." Kylos winced a little as the joy and relief they'd both been seeping went dry. The girl looked stumped whilst the man looked mildly annoyed.

"You must join us at our ceremony tonight."

The Doctor groaned. "What?" He drew the syllable out in expressing his indignant displeasure.

"It only happens annually! Come on, it will be great!"

Kylos slid a hand into a pouch hanging off his shoulder and produced a key. He unlocked the doors, brimming with positive energy and began to stride down the dim corridor.

"Meet us in the square again!"

And with that he set off in a jog, leaving the Doctor and Rose still sitting, feeling a little overwhelmed. The Doctor seemed even more so than she. Rose took the initiative and tugged him up from the floor.

"Well, I'm not about to miss a party, Doctor. You heard him. Shift!"

The Doctor groaned again and got to his feet. What a day this was turning out to be. And it wasn't even 10 o'clock yet.


	13. Save Me

I did mean to do the whole transformation in this chapter but my brain apparently had other plans for the rest of the story. :| I'm happy with the scene but may go back to edit it...

* * *

><p>Dusk was falling like a blue and purple sheet over Yavos, and the steady hum of excitement as preparations for the ceremony began, rose gradually in pitch.<p>

Rose had _no_ idea as to what this ceremony was for, but hell if she was going to miss a good party.

So a confused but elated Rose and a rather quiet Time Lord were lead out of their dingy, claustrophobic cell to be gawked at by Yavos children, and then separated to be 'prepared'. Of course, being a female and catching the speculative eyes of the handmaidens brandishing clothe and brush, Rose understand the phrase. The Doctor, however, was stock-still, looking more than a little worried, and it took some coaxing on her part (with some hushed giggling at his poor bemused face) and, well, some assertiveness on one of the women's part to get him moving.

The Doctor, speechless and ganged up on by women: priceless.

For her, girly moments were rather a rarity. She loved travelling with her Time Lord by herself- just the two of them- and preferred it that way...but sometimes she wouldn't mind the additional female company. Because the Doctor's leisure time often involved him and technobabble -if they weren't holed up cosily in the library watching a film or something or other. And the evening had consisted of things she _did _miss back home - dresses, makeup and general light-hearted, giggly conversation.

One of the women, Tria, who was about her age, spun round the marble corner brandishing a light pink dress. The folds near the hem frilled out towards her as Tria held it against herself, eyes sparkling.

"I think this is perfect. Sure to catch the eye of your _gentleman_." Tria then lapsed into a melody of giggles, swirling the dress about as the others chatted merrily and looked at Rose.

Well, _this _was something she encountered daily- if not more. Despite what she wanted inside, her defence of who they were sprung up and she became guarded.

"No -you see, the Doctor and me, " she stuttered, biting her lip and looking away, "we've never -we're not like that."

And everytime she admitted it, oh how it stung even more that it was true. But as usual, the women exchanged looks and the eldest did a little hand-motion and rolled her eyes.

"Sure..." They all exchanged looks and now _she_ felt the one being ganged up on.

"No, really," she urged.

"Maybe so," Tria replied with a soft, but sad smile directed at her.

"And if not," another quipped with a giggle, "then we can get things moving!" A bubble of simultaneous laughter broke through her thoughts and Rose jumped as Tria laid a hand on her shoulder."

"Come. Let me do your hair," she smile, lightly brushing one of her locks, "and you can tell me about this Earth of yours..."

* * *

><p>The Doctor, on the other hand, had less fun. He was deemed dirty, much to his indignant snort, and then barely managed to escape a through scrubbing by a rather matronly Yavos in order to keep his dignity. His speedy exit reminded him of Jacob's encounter with Potiphar's wife...in that he ran out the washing quarters having left his shirt behind. Not wishing to bear any more ill-feeling on the population he'd then reluctantly accepted the traditional outfit from the giggling women who took Rose.<p>

They barricaded the entry to the women's quarters as he approached to collect his clothing, hugging it to his rather exposed chest when he got it. But his attempts to see his companion were thwarted - even just standing on the balls on his feet to peek over their heads nearly earned him a slap!

"Aw, come on now! This isn't a wedding!" He protested, nearly tripping up over his own feet.

One of the younger Yavos -probably an apprentice or maidservant or the like - came to the front of the wall of women and met his gaze with the most shocking blue eyes - the sort one could swim in and forever be lost. He couldn't quite place her expression.

"A...wedding?" Her brows criss-crossed, so all her features scurried together in the middle of her youthful face. It kind of reminded him of Rose, in a roundabout way.

"Er, a ceremony, back on Earth. Two people form a...an intimate arrangement of sorts, pledge their life to one another, that kind of thing."

"Oh. I see." The girl looked downcast in thought for a moment, then came a lot closer to him, hands behind her back. Then she looked at him with those eyes again.

"On Yavos we have something like this...but secret. It is the Bond, _elu'thhawai."_ That last part the Doctor couldn't translate. It was probably derived from an ancient, impossibly old language. And that was saying something considering how many languages he did know. Despite this something about the unknown word was almost magical.

"And we show it publicly with a tying ceremony." She smiled wistfully into the distance, walking over to a nearby window and reaching into a small pocket in her tunic to pull out a strip of ribbon.

"This was my mother's, before she..."

Ever the empath the Doctor would have picked up on that last bit instantly. However he was still reeling from her words about the tying ceremony. It had also been a custom on Gallifrey...and he too had been bound. The evidence, although, he no longer had, for it perished with the fires of Gallifrey's destruction.

The Doctor swallowed down the lump in his throat and padded slowly away with his clothes, clasping the bundle close to his hearts like a lifeline.

* * *

><p>There was something magical in the fire as the tongues of flame seized up and danced. Well, apart from the fact that the Yavos had a way of changing the fire colour - the sponge colour that they lit or something. They had asked the Doctor to choose and, well, he picked up the yellow sponge and turned it in his hands for a moment with a lost look on his face before handing in back to them.<p>

Said Doctor was now leant up against one of the walls edging the large fire pit, arms folded, out of the crowd and and excite commotion. Rose sat, legs crossed, watching him as he stayed like that for five minutes, staring up at the sky. The fire lit up his skin with a dazzling orange-yellow glow and made him look enigmatic.

Also adding to this was the baggy cotton shirt and trousers that cut down to mid-shin. They made him look quite strange, and to be honest, rather silly. Rose had told this to his face and he had protested indignantly about actually _trying_ to not piss off the locals.

Rose also tried not to notice how the flames illuminated his body underneath said clothes. They were made of a rather sheer blend of whatever passed for cotton on this planet...She wondered if that was a deliberate move on the matchmaking women's part, actually.

The ceremony eventually took hold. She and the Doctor were vocally welcomed -much to embarrassment on both their parts- and then the feasting and dancing began. Everything was eaten by hand _and_ shared along the crowd as they sat in a large circle. It was first a zingy salad with red and yellow leaves followed by some kind of paste. Still, it was different -and that was what she loved about travelling.

The children, which has long since disappeared, flocked back out as the music ramped up. Rose was not normally a stranger to joining in -but sometimes she just liked to watch, observing the not-so-different-from-Earth-really goings-on. After what felt like three or four hours, the children were hushed away and things began to die down.

Rose was staring into the steadily dying fire, transfixed by the glowing embers when Kylos dropped himself to the ground next to her. She turned and grinned, feeling buoyed by the bubbly concoction she'd been given earlier (which was definitely some kind of alcohol). Despite his odd-coloured skin, Kylos was rather attractive. Some time earlier in her life, Rose would have scoffed at the mere mention of aliens, let alone her _falling in love _with one. And the Doctor-

Kylos' words merged into her thoughts and she blinked. He frowned for a split-second, then repeated himself.

"The Doctor? Have you seen him?"

She opened her mouth to say yes, she had. He was in this very crowd, also probably a bit intoxicated (did Time Lords even get drunk?) and flirting with everybody. She was also about to see she'd danced with him not long ago-

But Rose was let with her mouth open, no sound issuing forth.

She hadn't seen the Doctor. Not once, not during the ceremony. Only before. And that had been _hours_ ago.

Kylos nodded, patted her on the shoulder and got up to leave.

* * *

><p>The world was now a blue-purple-yellow haze before the Doctor's eyes as he stumbled through foliage, ripping his shirt on a awry branch and scuffing his knees. He then tripped over a gnarled root and crumpled to the floor, his stomach roiling and the nausea so intense it was almost blinding. The top layer of his skin, hair follicles and all, felt like they were trying to rip of him -his arms, his legs, everywhere. He couldn't think or even clear his system, even block the effects for one minute to comprehend what the bloody hell was happening to him.<p>

But, oh, he knew. Weeks and months had warned him of this. The Doctor doubled over and vomited what little he had eaten onto the grass beneath him. It was dark and he couldn't see his hand in front of his face and could be crawling in anything right now. But little else seemed important as his body racked him with painful spasms, forcing him to keep dry-heaving until he could barely breath.

When the awful retching stopped, he collapsed fully, taking greedy gulps of air, even face down in the dirt but he too weak to even move his head. The Doctor then shivered, the sweat from his exertion cooling, but making him feel no better.

He thought the Universe might have mercy and that he might somehow beat this. But, no, he was doomed to become a snarly horror to end him and Rose. His skin began to prickle again, differently this time, and he just lay there, defeated, as the pain began in a manner that he had never experienced -not even in all his years, in all his nine pathetic lives.

The agony began softly, practically mocking, at his very core, almost at the center of his bones, like a leg-ache. Then it felt like someone had snapped them, taken his body and molded him into a different shape, one for a brutal purpose. He briefly registered that his bones were not lengthening rapidly, just hideously cracking. And then were none of this instantaneous fur-sprouting happening. But none of that matter as he writhed about in the harsh bedding of the woods, and screamed where nobody could hear him, the jovial upbeat tunes and pounding bass covering over his shame.

He was the Doctor.

But he was also very, very afraid.


End file.
